Marbles
by NancyMay
Summary: What happens on when Phryne attempts to take her father back to England. Any journey with Henry was never going to be easy. This was supposed to be a one shot, but ran on so all chapters will be published quickly, as it has been written and finished. I hope you enjoy this story.
1. Chapter 1

The first part of the journey home went as well as could be expected. Phryne daydreamed about the kiss she had shared with Jack on the airstrip and had decided she would not be staying in England very long. Much as she would love him to follow her, he had his duty to the city of Melbourne and it was unlikely he would be allowed so much leave.

She had deliberately chosen small airfields to refuel at, ones with simple accommodation and no night life. Henry constantly grumbled about this and up to a point Phryne was able to ignore him. She too would have preferred to find a hotel, a small one would do, with good food and wine, comfortable beds, but she wasn't sure she could trust her father not to find a card game and a bar so she opted to bunk in the airfield barracks.

The weather was good for flying, a light breeze and clear skies and she made good time between stops. The further into Europe they went the better the accommodation would be but their first proper stop would be somewhere outside Jodhpur. Phryne had decided to refuel there, have the plane checked over and spend a couple of nights near the city. It was about as far as she could go before tipping Henry out over the ocean became a real possibility. He whined about the cramped seating, the wind, the odd bit of turbulence completely forgetting that Phryne was in control of a piece of machinery that to all intents and purposes should not be able to get off the ground. It took a great deal of concentration to ensure the plane stayed up and headed in the right direction, but he was completely oblivious to this and couldn't understand why she should be so short with him in the evenings, when she was so tired and her neck ached. She wondered if Jack was any good at massage with those long pianist's fingers of his.

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Jack used the telegrams she sent at each stop as bookmarks. He could almost smell her French perfume, hear her laughing at something or other that had amused her. He missed her, but she was right in her supposition, he couldn't get the Commissioner to sign off on the leave he would need to meet her in London. He couldn't telegram back, she would have moved on, but, he did know about the Jodhpur stop and resolved to have a letter waiting for her when she arrived.

"Dear Phryne,

Thank you for telegramming me, to let me know you are safe. The journey seems to be going at a good pace, I pray it continues to do so. Please don't tip your father out over the ocean, the arrest paperwork would be dreadful.

I am unable, so far, to engineer enough leave to meet you in London, if that is what you truly wished. I will keep working on the Commissioner.

Hugh and Dorothy are looking for a home of their own while they keep Wardlow ticking over. Mr Butler insists I dine with them most nights and I am afraid I cannot resist even his simple omelette. Lovely company as they are, I miss sitting with you after dinner over draughts and whisky, discussing the latest case. I also find I miss you sitting on my desk or turning up at a crime scene, pinching my toast ... I miss you, Phryne, very much. Come home soon, beautiful lady detective.

Love and respect,

your Jack."

It wasn't the best of letters he could write, he'd long lost the ability to write a love letter, but perhaps she would see what he wanted to say.

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"1 MORE DAY UNTIL JODHPUR STOP WHAT WOULD I GET IF HE FELL OUT OVER THE MOUNTAINS STOP

PHRYNE"

Jack smiled. Fell out? An accident would not get her hanged though she would be responsible for checking he was strapped in correctly. Unfortunately he had already posted his letter so was unable to answer her question.

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"In you get, father," she chivvied him along, "next stop just outside Jodhpur, and we are staying for two nights. I want to get the plane checked over."

"Just outside?" he climbed stiffly into the forward seat, "why not in the city?"

"You know why, father," she followed him up and strapped her flying helmet on, "contact!" she called to the mechanic. The engine roared into life first time, as it always did, and she taxied down the runway, took off into the bright blue sky and relaxed. She couldn't hear her father grumbling over the engine noise.

Henry wondered what sort of accommodation he would have to bear for the two nights they would be staying. Probably another bunk in another airfield barracks. He shivered as the cold air whipped by.

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They landed at an airfield just below the city. Phryne jumped down and spoke to the mechanics while Henry looked on. They were all handsome young men, the type that his daughter would flirt with and more in the past, but now she seemed more interested in getting him home to Margaret. Perhaps they could persuade her to show an interest in some of the young and, more importantly, wealthy, aristocrats in England, and not high tail it back off to Melbourne and meddling in police affairs.

A youngish man, not a local Henry noticed, bounded out of the office, arms wide open.

"Phryne, you mad woman!" he bellowed and enveloped her in a tight hug.

"Hello, Septic," she grinned back, "thanks for letting me land here and for the use of your mechanics."

"Pleasure's all mine, old girl, though why you should want to fly all the way back to Blighty when an ocean liner would be far more comfortable, I don't know."

"Three, four weeks with father," she raised her eyebrows, "good god, what an awful thought."

"So why?"

Got to get him home to mother before she throws him out on his ear," she pouted, "another story that I won't bore you with."

Henry clambered stiffly out of the plane and sauntered over, keen to find his new accommodation and hopefully have a stiff whisky or two.

"Father," Phryne called him over, "come and meet Squadron Leader Terence Blandford; Septic to his friends; Septic, my father, Baron Henry George Fisher of Richmond upon Thames."

"Squadron Leader," Henry shook his hand and looked the man up and down, "why on earth 'Septic'?"

"Old school joke, initials ... TB," Septic laughed.

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Their hotel was on the lower slopes of the city, well appointed but not too flamboyant, Phryne had asked for somewhere inexpensive, but not cheap. After all, she was paying, and her father did not deserve the opulence of the grand hotels in the city. All she wanted was a comfortable bed, a long soak in the bath and good food. She arranged with Septic that the mechanics would give the plane a good service and fuel her up and she would see him at dinner for an update.

The bath was deep, fragrant and just what the doctor ordered. She had telegrammed Jack to tell him she had arrived safely and her father had not fallen out over the mountains. In return his letter had just arrived and she lay in the steaming bath reading it, keeping it well out of the way of the water so as to stop the ink from running. She smiled at his missing her and was glad Mr B had seen to it that he was fed and watered, as she had asked him to do. She would arrange to be back in Melbourne as soon as humanly possible and perch on the corner of his desk one morning, and steal his toast.

She thought she might write a short note to him, telling him she missed him too. If she got it in the post the following day it would be with him soon enough.

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Conversation over dinner revolved around Phryne's cases, the people she had left behind and her role as guardian to a young girl. She told Septic about Jack and Hugh, about how she had inveigled her way into his cases and in doing so Septic could see just what she felt for the Inspector. He in turn, told her how he had set up the airfield after retiring from the RAF, ran short commercial flights and sightseeing tours and was thinking of opening a flying school.

"I've trained up some of the men and they have enough hours to fly solo so all is good here." He sipped his drink.

Henry muttered that he still didn't see their enthusiasm for flying, good old roads and rail, with sea journeys added in, he grumbled into his dinner. He thought he'd have an early night and left the two old friends reminiscing about their earlier years, the war and later in Paris before Rene.

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Phryne didn't see her father at breakfast. Admittedly she had decided to rise later than she had on their other stops. She and Septic had parted late, he to his little bungalow and she to her room, both alone. But, she wasn't Septic's type and really she was too tired for any kind of bedroom antics, though Jack may have been able to persuade her!

She knocked on Henry's door and waited for an answer. She knew he had breakfasted because the waiter had told her so but he hadn't been seen since. She knocked again, still no answer. She took her trusty lock pick and let herself in. The bed had been made, his clothes put away and his toiletries were tidily stowed on the washbasin shelf. Perhaps the lounge, reading the paper, or at least the racing pages, but he had no money on him, unless he had some hidden about his person that she knew nothing about.

Panic began to set in when she had tried just about every public place around the hotel, the lounge, the music salon, the gardens, and still not set eyes on her father. She rang Septic to ask if he had seen him, had he wandered out to the airfield, though why he should she couldn't work out.

"No, not seen him," Septic shook his head, "want me to come and help search?"

"Where could he go, Septic?" she huffed, "he knows no-one here, and has never set foot in India before. I swear I am going to handcuff him to his bed at the next stop over."

"Is the Inspector missing some police equipment?" he laughed.

"Huh!" she puffed, "any suggestions as to where a committed gambler, fraud and drinker could go in Jodhpur?"

"He would only be able to drink in the hotels, same with gambling, though it is illegal, and what kind of fraud could he commit?"

"Damn him!"

Septic left the airfield and drove over to the hotel where they outlined how far he could have got that morning. By mid afternoon they hadn't found him, were hungry and, in Phryne's case, furious. She ran her hands through her hair and gave an exasperated sigh.

"Come on old thing," Septic hugged her, "you need to eat, can't search for an errant father on an empty stomach."

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She delayed her departure for an extra day, but when Henry was still missing she decided she would have to stay indefinitely and call in the cavalry.

"Phryne?" Jack rubbed his eyes, "god woman, you choose some time to call ... what? No?"

On the other end of the phone, a now angrily crying Phryne tried to explain what had happened and how worried she was.

"Jack, I'm sorry, but the local police are no help, we have scoured the city and I still can't find him," she sniffed, "please, I know it will not be easy but ..."

"True, but I'll be there, just don't know how long it will take."

"Go to the airfield and ask for Harris," she felt relieved, "he has a Tri-Motor, faster and longer range than the Gypsy, he'll be able to get you here sooner."

"Right, I'll get a message to you," Jack put down the phone and thought for a second. Picking up the receiver again he dialled the Commissioner's office.

"Missing man, sir," he said, "I've been asked to join the hunt."

The Commissioner listened as Jack told him it was an Australian citizen that had gone missing in India and the family had called for some help, from someone who could do the job.

"Locals not up to the task, sir," he padded out the story.

"Go on then Robinson," the Commissioner smiled, "tell Miss Fisher to keep a tighter rein on her father in future."

"Er, right, yes ..." Jack scratched his head, put the phone down and mused at how the Commissioner saw right through him, this time.

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Harris agreed to fly Jack to Jodhpur, 'any friend of Phryne Fisher's' ,he'd laughed, so the Inspector swung by his own house to pack a few essentials leaving Hugh to tell Dot and Mr Butler he wouldn't be by for dinner that night.

"Really, sir?" Hugh gasped when he heard of the mission, "well, I suppose we'll see you sometime, then."

"Oh, I'll be back, Collins," he smiled, "keep things neat and tidy, please."

"Do my best sir," Collins shrugged.

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Jack was relieved to see the plane appeared to be more substantial than the moth.

"Old mail plane," Harris hummed, "good workhorse, she is. Get you there in no time."

"Why would Miss Fisher not use something like this to fly her father to England?" Jack settled in the co-pilot's seat, just because there was no one else there and it would be more interesting than sitting back in the body of the plane.

"She's used to the Moth, don't think she's ever flown this type, it's bigger, you see."

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While Phryne and Septic had been scouring the streets of Jodhpur, the cafes and bars, clubs and dens, Henry had been having a ball. The morning he had disappeared he had simply wandered out of the hotel and headed towards the city. He wasn't usually one for a long walk but he was intrigued by the sounds and people going about their daily business. He had been standing by a statue of some Indian god when he had been hailed by another Englishman.

"Henry George Fisher, as I live and breathe!" the man clapped his hand on his shoulder, "what the devil are you doing here, in Jodhpur?"

"Clarence Jeffries?!" Henry gasped, "I might ask the same of you."

"Live here, old man," Clarence laughed his hearty laugh, "have done for years. Came over just after that little incident with the horse."

"That was a while ago," Henry smirked, as he remembered the horse he and Clarence had been encouraged to buy, a race horse supposedly, but it was universally agreed, after it had lost all its races, that it was a donkey with three legs. That being the case, in order to get their money back they sold it on, to an unsuspecting Spanish bullfighter looking for a mount. Henry had managed to disappear and Clarence left for India before they were tried for fraud. Eventually the case was deemed not worthy of being pursued and the Spaniard took the horse home for his children to ride.

"Come on over," Clarence insisted, "got a lovely hotel higher up in the city."

Henry paused then thought, 'we have another night here, before we fly home,' then smiled, "marvellous idea, Phryne'll be busy with the plane."

"Not little Phryne?" Clarence escorted him to a pony and cart, "not so little now I suppose."

"Grown woman now," Henry nodded, settling himself down on the plush cushion, "flies planes, drives far too fast. Lives back in Melbourne."

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The hotel was indeed lovely. Light and exquisitely decorated in traditional Indian style, cool inside.

"This way, old chap," Clarence tugged him towards the back of the reception area, "private rooms."

They spent the rest of the day reminiscing, drinking, they ate a hearty lunch, napped, drank some more and had a feast of a dinner. Henry had forgotten all about the reason for him being in India, why Phryne had brought him here and when Clarence suggested he stay over, as the night was wearing on, he readily agreed. Pyjamas were found for him, by a local woman who apparently 'looked after' Clarence, and he weaved his way to bed in a haze of good whisky and wine, and suspicious tobacco.

The following morning, while Phryne and Septic discussed which part of the city to search, Henry arose from his far too comfortable bed to find a young local girl had drawn him a bath and laid out his clothes, which had been cleaned, and shaving gear. Clarence had said he would show him the extent of the hotel grounds that morning, and then they'd see what other memories they could dig up. The bath was deep and wide, easily big enough for a family of four and Henry found himself drifting off. He awoke as a ewer of hot water was added to his bath and the lovely young lady who had prepared it standing there wearing nothing but a thin white shift. She stepped into the bath and as she did so the water turned the fabric transparent and he could see her fine neat figure, perfect small breasts and tidy triangle of dark at the apex of her thighs. He couldn't help his body's reaction as she leant over and lathered his chin ready to shave him. He closed his eyes as the razor was drawn over his chin and she subtly moved against him, encouraging him to harden more. He felt his heart race and his breath came in little gasps.

As the girl finished her attentions to his chin her hand slid down and cupped him, before lazily drawing her finger up his twitching erection. She positioned herself over him and slowly guided him into her. She was wet and hot and he found himself reacting to her, lifting his hips to meet her as she set the rhythm. He pushed into her harder and harder, faster and faster until they both shattered.

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On the other side of the wall Clarence smiled a little smile, and clicked the shutter on his camera. Henry Fisher could never resist something a little exotic, nor could most of the men he enticed into his private apartment. Once he had bled them dry, threatening to send the photographs to their wives and lady friends, he would burn the negatives. At least he did stick to that side of the bargain. He watched the girl step out of the bath and offer a towel to Henry. As he stepped out Clarence got a perfect full frontal picture of Henry.

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Henry didn't mention his bathing partner to Clarence and Clarence just asked if his accommodation was acceptable.

"More than acceptable, old chap," Henry chuckled, "wish I'd known about this place before."

"Well, you're welcome to stay a bit longer," Clarence could see quite a bit of mileage in having Henry to stay, the Fishers were a wealthy family, or so he thought. They had been when they had sold the horse, anyway, and if his daughter could afford to fly her own plane ... must be rolling in it.

Still a little foggy headed from the previous night, Henry agreed.

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Septic and Phryne continued searching the city, showing Henry's passport to all they met, all the hotel staff they could find but no one appeared to have seen him. He wasn't remembered at the railway station so they believed he hadn't left the city.

"The thing about my father," Phryne mused over tea, "is he is not easily ignored. He never goes unnoticed so I can't understand how he can so completely disappear." She ran her hands through her hair and Septic thought how tired she looked. It was unlikely she was sleeping properly, if at all, and the previous night she had shed tears of frustration.

"Jodhpur is a big city, Phryne," he touched her hand sympathetically, "it's easy to disappear, or get lost. Now, all the more affluent areas have been covered, as you say your father likes his comforts, so I suggest we start on the lesser areas."

"Jack will be here tomorrow," she sighed, "he knows him, too well."

"Really?" Septic raised his eyebrows.

"Father was always in the way if I wanted to have a quiet dinner with Inspector Robinson," she let her mind wander to the night of Jack's declaration, the night he had practically told her he was in love with her.

"I see," and he did.

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Sitting in the co-pilot's seat and chatting to Harris, Jack found the flight went quicker than he expected it to. They made one stop to refuel but made good use of the light and Harris showed him how to keep the plane heading straight and true and in the air, while he had the occasional nap. He wondered if Phryne would teach him to fly.

"Harris?" he watched the man start the descent to Septic's airfield, "would this plane get Phryne to England quicker than the Moth?"

"Some, why?"

"Perhaps, as a damage limitation exercise ..."

"Got you, no worries, the old crate will do it, though they are already a week behind schedule, from what you say, and I won't be able to make that time up," he nodded, "and we have to find the Baron first."

"True, just a thought," Jack hummed.

"Will you go on with them?" Harris lined up the nose of the aircraft with the runway and touched down smoothly.

"I think so, if she wants me to."

"She asked for your help, Phryne doesn't do that, ordinarily, too blasted independent."

"Quite," he turned at a shout and there she was, running towards him

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"Jack! Jack!" she screamed, "oh Jack," she flung her arms round him and he held her tight.

"Miss Fisher," he smiled, noting how tired she looked. Dark circles round her eyes, eyes that were filled with tears. He kissed her forehead, "Phryne."

"Thank you, " she sniffed, "I ... I..."

"I know, love," he murmured in her ear, "we'll find him, don't worry."

He knew less about Jodhpur than she did, but he would find Henry, or die in the attempt, for her. At least he had no preconceptions about the city and therefore would search places she and Septic hadn't thought of.

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With Jack's suitcase deposited in Phryne's room, and tea ordered they started to talk about all the places they had searched. They marked everything on a map and made a plan for the following day.

"First I would like to see his room," Jack took off his tie and undid his top two buttons. Phryne turned away to hide a smirk, now was not the time to start admiring his physique, especially when he followed that with rolling up his shirt sleeves, exposing strong forearms.

"Of course," she agreed, "though I have turned it upside down."

"I have no doubt you have done, Miss Fisher," he raised one, quizzical eyebrow, "nevertheless ..."

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Jack's search yielded no more than Phryne's, that is - nothing!

"It looks like he just decided to go for a walk and never came back," he sighed, "well, tomorrow, as we said, I think more than just showing his passport to the various hotel desks. We go in, perhaps order tea, easy to snoop around ..."

"I suppose we have to get lost on the way to the facilities, then?"

"Best excuse I know for being in the wrong place," he slipped his arm round her, "he'll be there, somewhere, love, probably having a great time with some English person he's hooked up with."

"That's what worries me," she leant her head on his shoulder and Septic thought he ought to remind them he was there, he cleared his throat.

"If that's your thinking, there's a place quite high up in the city, owned by an English ex-pat," he thought back to the visit to Clarence's hotel, "we showed his passport but the concierge denied all knowledge, and none of the staff we spoke to had seen him."

"Until then?" Phryne was itching to get started on the search.

"Phryne I dropped everything to come here, I'm afraid my wardrobe is not the best for this climate ..."

"Ooh, shopping," her eyes lit up, "now that I am good at."

"Just something a little lighter," he sighed, "I'm sure you can find something for me."

"Linen, I think, Jack."

Although he knew it would be better if she went and took a nap, this would be relaxing for her, and really, his wool suit was not good in this type of heat.

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They spent a couple of hours finding Jack some linen trousers, a jacket and cooler, looser shirts. They had the kind of soft fit his gardening trousers had, and the old shirt he used for odd jobs around his little bungalow. He encouraged Phryne to buy two new white cotton blouses and linen skirts and when he noted a pretty light blue day dress she went into the shop and bought that. She also bought herself a broad brimmed hat and Jack a panama style one.

"Most becoming, my dear Inspector," she smiled and kissed his cheek.

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Septic left them early, after dinner, not staying for coffee. Phryne and Jack headed to her room, or their room - he noted all his things were stowed there so she obviously hadn't booked a room for him. No less than he expected, and he smiled.

"What are you grinning about, Jack?" she turned and teased him.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe it's the fact that you haven't booked me a separate room," he squeezed her hand.

"Do you want one?" she looked surprised, but she hadn't really thought about it. Oh yes she wanted the Inspector in her bed, but what she really wanted was the comfort in his arms while she fought the nightmares, the demons that plagued her sleep. Sex, for once, was not the first thought she had.

"Not unless you want to sleep on your own."

"Jack," she opened the door to her room and stepped inside, pulling him, gently, in behind her. Her shoulders slumped, "ever since father went missing I have had 'difficult' dreams, when I do sleep, images of him lying in a gutter, or being thrown off a ledge, I love him, he's my father, but I don't like him, does that make sense?"

"It does," he pulled her close, "my mother always said her love for me and my siblings was unconditional, but if we did something wrong, she didn't have to like us."

"I think I might like your mother," she snuggled into his chest.

"I know she would like you, Phryne," he kissed the top of her head, "now, bedtime, Miss Fisher, that's an order."

"Yes sir," she stepped back and saluted, and believed that, with Jack, it would all turn out right in the end.

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Henry had had another good day with Clarence, they were all good days, in fact. He had been shown round the private gardens, dined well, napped in the afternoon, with his little bath-mate, after she had used her mouth on him and sent him to the outer reaches of the universe. He had returned the favour, then before he lost control, she had tipped him onto his back and rode him until they both released.

Clarence got as much pleasure from watching Henry and Henry did with the young girl. While he watched, his pleasure mate cupped him and stroked him then he lifted her up and thrust hard into her releasing the same time as Henry did. One of his other girls took the pictures, he would have her as her reward, later.

The bed was big enough to take all four of them, plus the girl who took the pictures. Clarence had made sure Henry had enough alcohol and hallucinogenics that he was able to perform at his best. They took turns with the girls, then the girls pleasured each other until all were exhausted and they fell asleep, sheets entangled with limbs and bodies entangled with bodies.

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Phryne and Jack curled up together and she told him all about the trip so far. It didn't sound like she had enjoyed it much. Oh yes, she enjoyed flying, but if her father had whined as much as she said it was no wonder she had considered tipping him out over the ocean or the mountains.

"He professes his gratitude," she sighed, "but it's an empty thanks. I'm useful, for money to get him out of a spot or to get him to where he needs to be, one way or the other."

"Not changed then, from what you have told me before."

"Not a bit, though he doesn't beat me anymore," she wriggled against him, "well he can't, not from England."

"I'm sure," Jack's breath caught in his throat, "that you would give as good as you got, if not better."

Phryne was feeling better now that Jack was there, and in spite of just wanting his support in finding her father and keeping the nightmares away, she was now experiencing familiar urges. It would seem that the Inspector was able to rise to the challenge.

Their first night together was more than she could have hoped for. She found Jack a generous and skilful lover as he explored her body, kissed and tasted her, stroked his hands round her bottom before slipping his fingers down through the curls finding her wet and ready for him. He moved his fingers over her and in her and she gasped.

"Jack, please," she had a brief hope that he was the reason he and Rosie didn't have children because right now she was boneless, and any hope of stopping to put her device in was lost.

He lifted himself over her and allowed her to guide him to her entrance before slowly slipping deep inside her. They found a complimentary rhythm as her hips rose to meet him and they gazed into each other's eyes. He couldn't help but notice her eyes were black with desire, then they closed as he took her out of her body and he followed her.

He didn't want to collapse on top of her, fearing he would hurt her, so he rolled to her side and pulled her to him. She put her head on his chest and slipped her leg over his and sighed with pure pleasure. She put an arm over him and closed her eyes, there would be no nightmares tonight.

Jack put his arm round her and kissed the top of her head - wherever he was in the world, this, right here with Phryne, was home.

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The following morning they met up with Septic over breakfast and confirmed their arrangements for the day. They would go up to the hotel run by the ex-pat and have morning coffee. Phryne would then head to the ladies powder room and Jack would follow a couple of minutes later to the gents. With luck they would meet up near the owner's private apartment.

"Just out of interest," Jack sat back in his chair with his arms folded, "what's the name of this man?"

"Jefferson? Jeffries? One or the other, I think," Septic scratched his head.

"Not Clarence Jeffries?" Phryne squeaked, "tall, dark hair, beady eyes."

"Could be, though his hair isn't that dark, more salt and pepper."

"This couldn't be worse," she ran her hands through her hair and bit her lip.

"What is it, Phryne?" Jack leant forward and turned her to face him.

"Clarence Jeffries, or the one I knew, was an out and out fraud, sneaky dirty dealing weasel." She proceeded to tell the two men the story of the horse, and one or two others. "Needless to say, if it is him and father is with him there will be trouble, a lot of trouble."

"So, what do you think he will do with your father?"

"Oh they'll be having a fine time," she huffed, "probably completely drunk and knowing Clarence, who had an eye for something exotic in the way of hallucinogenic drugs, completely out of it ... you know he gave me cocaine once. I was about sixteen, I have never felt so ill in my life when I came down. I was completely exhausted and horribly sick. I have never used such recreational drugs since."

"At fifteen!" Jack's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, "Phryne that is ... well I don't think I have the words. Why on earth ..?"

"I think he thought it might be a way to ... well, you know ... but he didn't. That gate had already closed," she went a little pink, "a nice young farmer on the estate, gentle and kind."

Although Jack thought she had been very young to have been having sex, he was somehow glad it had been someone gentle who had been her first lover. He had been Rosie's first and on their wedding night it had been difficult. He knew what he was doing, she had just been given the facts by her mother that morning so she was understandably scared. He had done his best to be gentle but, really, they had never got beyond the point of her accepting his attentions as a dutiful wife. He had slept with some girls in France during the war, everybody did, and they had taught him ways to please both himself and his lover. He hoped he had learned enough to keep Phryne satisfied for a very long time. Rosie had been less than receptive to his knew found confidence and 'tricks' in bed and they went back to unsatisfying lovemaking in the dark, her with her nightdress lifted just high enough. He imagined that if she and Sidney had married he would have ended up taking a mistress, he didn't look the type that would do without. Anyway, that was by the by, their current task was to find Henry and get him back to Margaret, though they would be too late to stop her formally separating from him.

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"Very overdone," Phryne hummed, as she was escorted by the two men into the hotel. Jack thought it was a little on the garish side and Septic wondered how the heck Jeffries could keep such an establishment going, as there weren't many having morning coffee or sitting around the lovely gardens. They were shown to a low table and three comfortable looking easy chairs and ordered tea and coffee.

Phryne got up and wandered to a stand where leaflets advertised activities in Jodhpur, excursions and the like. While she perused the offerings she looked surreptitiously around, checking for quiet areas, or for her father having coffee with his friend. There was a corridor behind the Reception Desk that seemed to lead to somewhere more private. She would explore that when she went to find the powder room.

The coffee was good, but not wonderful, and the little biscuits were a tad chewy but it was enough to give them reason to be there and to wander around the hotel. It was now mid morning and the place was filling up with tourists. Phryne excused herself and went in search of the powder room. Jack gave her two minutes then told Septic he would just pop to the gent's lavatory before they set off again. This was the cue for Septic to take a look at the local paper before asking for the bill. He chatted to the waiter about the weather and the state of the hotel business at the current time. He wasn't sure how Phryne or Jack would let him know they had found the Baron, but he reckoned he would know ... somehow.

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Phryne slipped unnoticed down the corridor and moments later felt Jack's hand on her arm. He nodded to one of two doors and pointed.

"That one first, then we'll try the others one by one," he whispered low.

"Right," she nodded and watched while he tried to turn the handle.

"Here, let me try," she winked and nudged him aside.

Lock pick effectively used, they pushed the door open and peered round it. Large cushions decorated the floor, ornate chaise longues sat around the walls; there were trays that held drink and smoking paraphernalia, an antique Hookah, and fabric draped all around. Against one wall, that would be between this room and the adjoining one, was a camera and spyglass.

Phryne threaded her way between the cushions and wraps noting the smell of stale hashish and sex and put her eye to the spyglass.

Jack heard her gasp.

"No!" she turned to him a look of utter horror on her face.

He was by her side in an instant and looked to see what had so unnerved her.

"Bloody hell," he whistled, then apologised, he never swore in front of a lady. "Oh Phryne," he pulled her close, "I am sorry."

"I'll kill him," she pulled from him and made to go to the door.

"Wait." He stopped her. "Wait, love. One, you are not going to kill him and two I think the camera holds the key. Here he could be photographed and then blackmailed, Jeffries knew your family years ago, he probably thinks he could make quite a killing out of your father. Septic did wonder how this place kept going, I suspect Jeffries is a serial blackmailer."

He turned to the camera, a new model that the film was easily removable from, and did so.

"But what do I tell mother?" her breath hitched as she spoke, thinking of her mother telling him how much she loved him but couldn't go on with him getting up to his old ways, "she'll be devastated."

"Nothing," he shoved the film canister in his pocket and picked up the camera, "unless she needs to know. There is no need to hurt her. If she has acted on her threat to separate from him there is no need for her to know."

"But I will know," she grunted.

"And you can let him know you know, and if he is so doped up I can have the film developed and you can remind him."

Phryne huffed and he expected she would express her indignation quite firmly.

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At the next room door, behind which Henry and Clarence and their pleasure mates slept on in blissful ignorance, Phryne used her lock pick again and slowly and silently they entered.

Everybody was splayed out over each other with little covering. Phryne picked up a glass jug of water and tiptoed over to the foot of the bed, then threw it over her father. He gasped and yelled then sat up, at which point the remaining fold of the sheet slipped off him, exposing him completely. Phryne turned away; seeing her lovers naked, well that was to be expected - but to see her father in that way was downright wrong.

He blustered and coughed, the girls squealed and Clarence sat up, blinking.

"What the ..." his sentence was cut off when he saw Phryne, "little Phryne," he grinned. That just served to make Phryne even madder, she rounded on him.

"You bastard!" she stepped to him, fist raised, he stood up and tried to cover himself with a cushion.

"Phryne, no!" Jack grabbed her arm, she wriggled but couldn't get free, so she raised the other fist, drew it back and felled Clarence where he stood. Jack was impressed, it must be said, and while he said nothing now he would also not report it to the local authorities, if they were drawn into this debacle. He hoped not.

Septic reckoned the racket was his cue to join the two detectives and arrived just as Phryne sent Clarence down with an impressive uppercut.

"Er, Phryne, dear," her father had pulled the sheet round his middle and was standing unsteadily. The room was spinning rather wildly and his head thumped, "what're you doing here?"

"I have been looking all over the city for you, you drunken sot," she glared at him and fairly spat the words, "nearly a whole week ... and here you are, drinking, taking hashish, having your way with girls young enough to be my daughter, never mind yours. You disgust me!"

"Septic," Jack decided he'd better take charge of the situation before Phryne decided to leave her father where he stood, for good. "Septic, would you mind helping the Baron dress, please?"

"Jack m'boy," Henry tried to step forward and shake his hand, but tripped on the sheet.

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Just by standing over Jeffries with his, 'you will answer my questions or else' look, Jack got him to confirm that yes, he was planning on blackmailing Henry, it was his little financial security business.

"Is this the only roll of film on him?" Jack grunted.

Clarence nodded.

"Are you sure?" He became almost menacing.

Clarence nodded even faster it must have hurt his head.

"We'll be taking Baron Fisher with us," Jack drew himself up, daring Jeffries to argue, "but if I hear anything at all about anymore of this blackmailing, I will be contacting the authorities here and you will be brought to book. Now, just to make sure you get my meaning ..." he dropped the camera on the floor and ground his heel into it, shattering the lens and splitting the case.

"Hey!" Jeffries stumbled forward, "that was expensive!"

Jack caught him by the throat and pushed him against the wall, "do you understand?" he growled.

Phryne looked on, thoroughly impressed, while Clarence just nodded, dumbly.

Septic, holding up a now dressed Henry joined them and they headed out of the door.

"I'll be contacting the police!" Clarence shouted after them, Jack just waved the film canister over his shoulder.

"Don't think so," he reminded him that he had rather a lot of damning evidence.

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Phryne sat in the back of the car with Jack, nestled against his shoulder. Henry sat next to Septic in the front, clearly not in the same universe as the others.

"So," he slurred, "where're we off to today?"

"You are going back to our hotel, where you will be cleaned up, and left to sleep off whatever intoxicants you have ingested while I sort out the flights back to mother," Phryne hissed sharply.

"Mother, how?" he hiccupped, Phryne wondered if he was going to vomit.

"By plane you, fool," she snarled. Jack tightened his hold on her and soothed her with a kiss.

"Shh, leave it, Phryne," he whispered.

"Hate planes."

Jack could see it was going to be a long journey and there was no way he could leave her to deal with her father on her own.

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"Phryne," Septic and Jack guided Henry up the stairs to his room, "it's ok, honestly. You can't do it, can you? Now why don't you go and see Harris and get the flights planned, eh?"

"Alright," her shoulders sagged. Septic threw the car keys at Jack and pushed Henry through the door to be bathed and put to bed. He was then going to guard him and ensure he didn't leave the room, under any circumstances!

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Phryne's face was a mask as Jack drove to the airfield. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the edge of the seat, and that wasn't because Jack was driving much faster than he did back home - she was boiling with anger.

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"Right," Harris nodded, "straight as an arrow should get us there in ten to fourteen days. I'll do my best to make it ten, but it will be early starts and late finishes, and the closer we get to Northern Europe the shorter the days will be."

"We need to find places to stay and be able to carry supplies for the journey," Jack noted, "some food that will not perish, and will you need some cans of fuel, in case we can't get to a scheduled stop?"

"We'll have to, I'm not carrying that amount of fuel loose in the plane," Harris huffed. "I'll call ahead to places I know and alert then to the supplies we will need each day."

"Thank you, Harris," Phryne whispered, "I've asked an awful lot of you."

"No worries, Phryne," he grinned, "good to take the old crate for a long flight occasionally. I'll fly you back too, if you want."

"I need to do something about the moth," she sighed.

"Maybe Septic could take her home for you?"

"Maybe," she shrugged.

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Septic insisted on sitting with Henry through dinner and through the night. Two trays were taken up to the room but Henry's remained uneaten.

"Coming down," Septic mused, as he watched him retch into the lavatory, shivering and sweating. He made him drink a glass of water whenever he woke and mopped his brow. He had no love for this man who had used his wife and daughter so badly, but Phryne wanted him home and he would help her get him there. He wondered what she would do when she got him there. Would she tell her mother what he had done, it was an awful tale to tell and did the Baroness really need to know - everything.

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They were up dreadfully early the next morning. Breakfasts were served in their rooms and they were at the airfield as the sun rose. Phryne hated this time in the morning, unless she were coming home from a party and getting out of bed had not been easy. Jack had nudged her, blown over her breasts and tickled her but she had just grumbled and pulled the covers higher.

"Come on, Phryne, up you get," he pulled her into a sitting position, "let's get this over with."

"Urgh! How can you be so cheerful before the sun comes up?" she opened one bleary eye.

"And the other eye, please," he teased, "right," when she obliged, "breakfast should be on its way. You go and use the bathroom, I'll go and see how Septic has fared with your father."

"Poor man," she sat on the side of the bed and sighed, "I owe him."

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Henry looked awful. Grey, sunken eyed and barely conscious. Septic had practically fed him the breakfast, sure that it would come back once they were flying. He shuffled along, his head thumped, his stomach was doing somersaults and he was cold, shivering but sweating.

"He's in withdrawal, Phryne," Septic whispered as he poured him into the passenger seat of the car.

"God help us," she muttered.

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They loaded the luggage and supplies onto the plane before loading Henry and strapping him into a seat, covering him with a blanket and providing him with something to catch anything he may need to void from his stomach.

"You sit as co-pilot, love," Jack kissed her ear, "I'll sit here, close behind."

"Jack, I ..."

"Go on, it'll take your mind off it."

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The next few days were not pleasant. The flight was easy for Phryne, Jack was right that being co-pilot would take her mind off her father's behaviour. Jack dealt with his airsickness, strapped him into his seat when he became difficult to contain and made sure he drank enough water. Harris had installed a rudimentary toilet in the back of the plane so that meant they didn't have to land for that; they ate in the air and when Harris needed a break Phryne took control and Jack became her co-pilot.

"Would you teach me to fly?" he decided to ask one morning, "when we get back. Maybe we could fly away for a few days after a case or when we need a break, you know ..." his voice tailed off.

Phryne smiled, wicked thoughts entering her mind.

"I think that sounds like a lovely idea, Jack," she reached over and squeezed his hand, "perhaps we could find a little hideaway, in the middle of nowhere, enough room for an airstrip ..."

The continued making little plans without ever mentioning if they were a partnership, lovers or would marry - though even Jack put that idea right out of his mind.

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Each stop was different, but one thing never changed - there was always enough fuel to fill the tanks, enough food for the evening meal and the following day. Clean water was left in a tank and any notes on the state of the countries they were flying over were left, usually wrapped around some bread. All too often they slept in tents round a camp fire which Henry grumbled about, until Phryne rounded on him one night, after a turbulent flight. She had a headache and his whining about the accommodation was too much.

"If you hadn't gone wandering off in Jodhpur we would be further along, and in a hotel," she stood toe to toe with him and glared up into his face, "so you will sleep in a tent and shut up!" She turned on her heel and strode off a few feet to a nearby tree that she could kick furiously.

Jack shook his head, he firmly believed Henry had no idea what he had done in Jodhpur, or how close he was to losing Margaret; and possibly Phryne as well. He decided to tackle Henry and perhaps tell him a few home truths.

"Henry," he stood quite close, "you do know what Phryne is doing for you, don't you? That really she shouldn't have to babysit you all the way back to England?"

"I don't know what's got into her," Henry grunted, "I spend a couple of days with an old friend and she comes over all righteous."

"Your wife has said she will ask for a formal separation from you, because you have gone back to your old ways, which I believe are nothing to be proud of."

"No, Margaret is only threatening, she wouldn't go through with it." Henry smiled his genial smile.

"I don't think that's true, and neither does Phryne, and it wasn't a couple of days with an old friend, it was a week, nearly. Enough time for me to fly over from Melbourne and help her find you, then when we do find you where are you?" Jack didn't expect and answer and didn't get one. "In bed with three very young girls and Clarence Jeffries after a night of debauchery, drink and drugs."

"Nonsense, I ... it was ..." he blustered, what was it he had done? What did he mean drink and drugs, debauchery? True he had strayed over the years he had been married but none of that meant anything, apart from the young girl he had fathered, that he had nothing to do with, so she didn't mean anything to him either. So the idea he had been drinking and smoking, and enjoying pleasures of the flesh for a week was surely ridiculous.

"It wasn't nonsense, we saw and we have the photographic evidence. Jeffries was planning to blackmail you, bleed you dry, which wouldn't take long, we know, but all the same ...how hurt do you think Margaret is going to be when she finds out? Phryne is doing her best to limit the damage you have done, when really she should be the one to turn to you in times of trouble."

There was a stony silence between the two men punctuated by the crackle of the burning wood.

"I suggest you turn in for the night, and no more wanderings," Jack warned, "because next time, we aren't looking for you." He shoved Henry towards his tent and turned on his heel to go and see if there was anything he could do for Phryne.

She had heard all that Jack had said and was grateful he had told her father what had happened. She wondered if she could leave him if he did wander off, but perhaps Jack was overdoing that bit, just for effect.

She felt rather than heard him stand behind her, his warmth over her back and his distinct scent.

"I thought you might be a little chilled," he murmured, turning her around in his arms and pulling her close. She shivered and nosed into his shirt, all the better to drink in his scent which grounded her and gave her strength.

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A few more days and everyone was becoming more hopeful they would be in England soon. Henry had sobered up but was far from his usual jovial self. He was quiet, still not believing what Jack had told him about Jodhpur. Phryne barely spoke to him and when she did it was through gritted teeth. Jack thought their shaky relationship was irretrievably broken.

They were approaching Czechoslovakia when Harris and Phryne both noticed the plane was not flying as well as she should. The engine coughed and spluttered and they wondered how far they could get, would they get as far as the next refuelling site. This one was at a small airfield and they were planning on staying in the barracks for the night.

"We seem to be losing airspeed," Harris tapped the instrument panel, "and fuel, look, we should have some left over tonight."

"But we won't, just enough to get us there, it could be a bumpy landing," Phryne muttered, "don't tell father, he hates planes as it is."

"Jack?"

She called him forward and they had a whispered conversation.

"Right," he thought fast, "we need an alternative - any suggestions?"

"Train?" Phryne raised an eyebrow, "the Orient Express goes from, or through Prague."

"If we can get berths," Jack nodded, "it would be more comfortable, and if you confiscate Henry's passport we should be able to relax a little."

Phryne thought that sharing a bunk with Jack on the Orient Express would be infinitely more comfortable than a bedroll in a tent, though that hadn't stopped them indulging, and it was somehow that little bit more intimate, rolled up in a blanket together.

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The landing was very bumpy, there was some coarse language from the rear of the plane as it almost nose-dived into the ground.

They piled out, Henry kissing the ground and swearing never to fly, ever again, in his life.

"Any landing you walk away from is a good one," Phryne laughed, secretly relieved that they had made it.

"I'll get her checked out by the mechanics, Phryne," Harris pulled his hat off, "but I'm not hopeful, not for the timescale we had planned, anyway."

"I think we'd better look at trains," she patted his arm. "You have done so much, Harris, let me know how much it costs and I'll see you are reimbursed."

"No need ..."

"Oh yes there is, and I won't hear another thing about it," she put her hands on her hips and stared at him.

Harris raised his hands in submission and grinned, "pax, old thing," he laughed, "I'll see you in Melbourne, one day."

Phryne flung her arms round him and kissed him - on the cheek- while Jack looked on. He was not jealous, Phryne had made her choice.


	2. Chapter 2

They managed to get to Prague the following day, hitching a ride on one of the airfield trucks. Jack was beginning to get concerned about Henry's behaviour. He had told Phryne he would be the one to get Henry up in the morning, make sure he was securely settled in his quarters at night, check the windows were secure and lock the door. But, he hadn't told her that there were some mornings when the name 'Margaret' didn't seem to mean much, or if it did, it took some minutes before he remembered. He was worried that the amount of hashish he had smoked had had a detrimental effect on his memory. It was the only thing he could think of.

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At the station Phryne managed to book two cabins on the Orient Express, one single for her father and a suite for her and Jack. It was while they were making these arrangements that Jack thought he ought to do something about the financial side of things. He had been able to rush into the bank on the way to the airfield and made arrangements that he could phone and arrange to have money wired from his account into a bank wherever he should happen to be. He couldn't let Phryne pay for everything but didn't want to offend her. Henry just stood staring into space, eventually asking where they were.

"Prague station, father," Phryne sighed, "I told you this morning where we were going, and how we were going to get home, I do wish you'd listen." She sounded like she was talking to a small child and it made Jack smile.

Henry just shrugged his shoulders.

Phryne turned back to the ticket desk and asked if there was a small hotel nearby, that may be able to accommodate them overnight. She was given the names of two or three that may suit them and they found a taxi that would take them where they wanted to go. As they headed through the streets Jack made a mental note of the banks hoping that his bank back in Melbourne would be able to transfer money quickly.

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The hotel was comfortable, not too grand but grand enough to have private bathrooms for each of the rooms they booked. Jack settled Henry in his room, told him to unpack and perhaps have a soak in the bath. He decided he would draw the bath for him, not wanting the older man to forget and flood the room.

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Leaving Henry, locking the door behind him, he went to see if Phryne had unpacked or even sunk into a bath. She hadn't, she was sitting on the edge of the bed staring into space.

"Phryne?" he murmured, "Phryne," he stepped to her and squatted before her, "hey, come on, let's get unpacked, and you can slip into a bath. I'll leave you to soak the journey away while I go and make a couple of phone calls."

"Hm?" she blinked, "oh, sorry Jack, miles away."

"I know," he smiled gently, "lots to do and think about, but for now ..." he stood up and kissed the top of her head, anything more would not get anything done that he needed to.

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With Phryne settled in the bath and their clothes put away, though most of them needed cleaning, Jack said he was off to make his phone calls and he'd try not to be too long.

The call to the bank went reasonably well and he supposed that asking certain questions about him, his birth date and address was all to the good in that they wouldn't just transfer his money to someone who had no right to it. They told him he would have access to it the following morning, at the bank of his choice, which was nearest the hotel. He then nipped out of the hotel and headed to a nearby department store he had spied on the way from the station.

Of the three of them, he, Phryne and Henry, he was probably the only one who realised it would be her birthday in a couple of days. He resolved to buy her a gift of some description to mark the occasion. He wasn't sure what he was looking for and buying clothes for her was out of his jurisdiction, however ... lingerie was a possibility. She was running low as was he, so he took a deep breath and headed for the lingerie department. It took him longer than he wanted but, after finding her size he selected three sets of brassieres and tap pants, two cami-knicker sets and some stockings. He chose the best he could afford with the money he had on him, all pretty with little bits of embroidery on them, had them gift wrapped, then went and selected some undershorts and shirts for himself. He would have to sneak them into his luggage until the day came.

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Phryne had used the time wisely, enjoying her bath and washing her hair, then having found a clean set of clothes had gone to the concierge to see if it would be possible to get their laundry done before they set off the following day. She requested that only the men's shirts were pressed and the cotton blouses she had bought in Jodhpur. The rest would steam out in the bathroom as she needed them.

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"Feeling better?" he smiled entering the bedroom. She was lying on the bed deep in thought.

"Yes, thank you, I managed to organise some laundry to be done in time for us to leave tomorrow. How did your phone calls go?"

"Fine, I need to go to the bank in the morning, funds should have been wired by then," he sat on the bed next to her.

"Jack, I'm sorry, I should have thought ..." a worried frown creased her brow, "I was just so desperate to have someone I can trust that I never thought about anything else."

"No worries," he shrugged, "I spoke to the bank before I left and made arrangements, you can't pay for everything."

"I can ..."

"I realise it is financially possible for you to do so, but," he pulled her up and against his shoulder, "you shouldn't do, let me take some of the load, please."

"If you insist," she felt he was seeing it as a slight on his masculinity, "and thank you."

"Right, well my turn for the bath now," he gave her a little squeeze, "after that who knows."

"Who knows indeed, Inspector," she replied with a wicked grin.

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The evening meal was tasty and filling, they decided to have a glass of wine, a crisp, floral white, and finished with good strong coffee. Henry was quiet though he ate all that was put in front of him and drank his wine rather quickly. He looked around for the bottle but it was out of sight so he sighed and finished his meal with a glass of water.

"You'd make an excellent valet," Phryne hummed as Jack returned from seeing her father to bed. He leant against the door and sighed heavily.

"Something wrong?" she looked worried, "he is alright, isn't her?"

"Phryne, I don't know," he sat on the bed next to her, "his memory seems off, he asked where we were going tomorrow, and looked confused when I mentioned your mother by name. I'm wondering if that week with Jeffries has had an effect on his mind."

"So when I eventually get him home his is going to be senile and not even know the woman who was supposed to be the love of his life, though, to be frank, I see no real evidence of that declaration," she ran her hands through her hair, "dear god, what am I going to tell her?"

"I suggest he is seen by a doctor as soon as we get there," Jack took her hands in his, "we can't do anything while we're on the move."

She flopped down on the bed and pouted.

"How about I try and make you feel better, at least for a little while," he leaned over her and bent his head down to hers.

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He did indeed make her feel better, with his long pianist fingers trailing over her body, undressing her slowly, kissing her softly, sucking at her breasts, while she endeavoured to undress him, push his jacket off and unbutton his shirt. She could feel his desire through his trousers, placing strain on the buttons and she slipped her hands down to divest him of his trousers and undershorts then cupped him and stroked him while he pushed his fingers into her warm wetness. He could feel her struggling to retain control so he removed his finger and slid up her body and pushed inside her. She gasped as he pushed as deep as he could then withdrew slowly before pushing into her again. She rose to meet him, urging him on until she screamed in release and he followed her, finally collapsing onto the bed and pulling her over him.

He could feel her heartbeat against his chest, thumping, and her quickened breathing. There were times he felt a little bit smug, when he got Phryne to this state. She had confessed one night that some of her other lovers had never got her to climax and she had to deal with that herself, though it wasn't as satisfying, but Jack had, so far, always managed to get her over the edge of the world to the far reaches of the universe.

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They awoke tangled in each other and the covers. Jack smiled as Phryne stretched and ran her toes down his leg. She reminded him of a cat in the morning, the way she stretched and hummed.

They took turns in the bathroom, Jack first, though he did apologise for his lack of gentlemanly manners, but he could go and get Henry sorted out while she bathed and dressed and sorted out the laundry when it arrived back.

Phryne quite enjoyed being a little bit 'domestic', it was a mundane task, sorting and folding the laundry and packing but it stopped her thinking too deeply about her father's mental state, or what to tell her mother about his escapades in Jodhpur. She had finished her suitcase and was about to start on Jack's when he arrived with Henry, his arms loaded with his pyjamas and toiletries.

"Here, Phryne, you do your father's I'll do mine," he dropped the clothing onto the bed and pulled his suitcase over.

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Breakfast over, the bill paid they set out for the station, calling at the bank for Jack on the way. He was unsure as to whether this would work, despite assurances from Phryne that it was quite easy to have money wired from one country to another, hadn't she just done so for her mother? Still his had been done in a rush. Happily, she was right and he came out with cash and cheques he could use in various countries.

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"I'll help father unpack," she smiled, after looking round their suite, which was spacious and beautifully appointed and had its own facilities. "You've done a lot for him, and me, on this trip, perhaps it would be a good idea if I saw for myself how forgetful he is."

Jack agreed it was a good idea, he had wanted to suggest she do something like that, to see for herself. He would continue to see to Henry's needs as regards bathing and dressing but he felt she should ... well what, he wasn't sure, something that she could do to go some way towards mending their relationship, if that was at all possible.

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Phryne busied herself getting her father to put his clothes away. She found herself chivvying him along as if he was a small child. She had booked him into a standard cabin but would let him use their bathroom, perhaps sit with them in the evening, that way she could be certain he was alright, but most of all not gone a-wandering.

They would only be on the train for two days at the most, then they would be in England, London and explaining all to her mother. Phryne still didn't know what she was going to tell her - the truth? a watered down version?

"You're right, Jack," she leant against the door, having left her father having a short afternoon nap, "he's lost some of his marbles, if not all."

"I wonder if we can arrange to dine in our suite," he stepped towards her, "neither of us really have the dress to go to the dining car and your father will not make an embarrassing social faux pas."

"We have our own steward, so we can ask him," she leaned against his chest and he knew she was doing her best to hold herself together. The banks would break soon, he felt, perhaps when she saw her mother. He was sure that losing Henry in Jodhpur brought back memories of losing Janey and this upset her more than anything. She took such things as a personal failure when she really shouldn't.

"Right, well that's the plan then," he kissed her, "now, how about we order some tea, find out what we need to know and relax?"

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In the comfort of the suite they were able to dine privately and laze about watching the snowy landscape go by. Henry sat with them for the meals but was not much of a conversationalist. He asked the same questions over and over again; where were they going? who was Margaret? did she live in London? Phryne found it wearing and distressing; her father had caused her so much trouble lately and now he was paying for his stupidity. She hadn't wanted this to happen and Jack insisted it wasn't her fault, Henry was easily led, too wrapped up in his own little world to see when people were leading him on.

"All I wanted was to get him home," she grumbled after Jack had seen him to bed, "in one piece. He told me mother was the love of his life, then forgets that when presented with a diversion. I knew it wasn't going to be easy, he hates flying and we would have to stop frequently, that's why I found little places out of the way of gambling and booze ... airfield barracks. I didn't expect him to take it into his head to explore a foreign city, he's never had the desire to travel, as far as I know."

"Nobody could have foreseen this, Phryne, it's not your fault." Jack impressed upon her, "your father can't resist a party."

"How will mother cope?"

"If she's anything like you, she will be fine, but," he took her hand and led her to the luxurious bed, "we will stay until she has found a way to look after him, be it a live in nurse or a valet with the strength to ignore his protestations about bedtime and the physical strength to move him about."

"Does he argue about bedtime?" she turned so he could undo the buttons down the back of her dress.

"Complains it's too early, rather like a child," he kissed the nape of her neck, "now, enough talk of your father, that bed looks rather inviting and I'm thinking of a few things we could do to entertain ourselves."

A slow, naughty smile spread over her face ...

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She looked beautiful, Jack thought, arms thrown above her head which was turned to face him. They had made love for what seemed like hours before falling asleep curled up together. Today was her birthday so he resolved to let her sleep on for a while. He would get up and shower then find the gifts he had bought for her, still hoping he had done the right thing. He had tried not to think too deeply about the lingerie he had chosen, whether or not he should have gone for something like a silk scarf, to cover the marks he left on her neck, or some piece of jewellery. The lingerie was practical as well as pretty, she had been muttering about going on a shopping spree in London, the clothes she had with her were getting worn looking.

She was still asleep when he came out of the shower, now turned in the bed, hugging his pillow. He pulled on a pair of undershorts and took the gifts to the bed.

"Happy birthday, Phryne," he whispered in her ear.

"Mmph," she turned and opened her eyes, "birthday? Really?"

"Really," he nodded, "it is your birthday, today."

"Thank you, Jack," she sat up and put her arms round his neck, the sheets slipping down revealing the marks on her breasts and hips, "for remembering."

"One of us had to, and it wasn't going to be Henry," he kissed her, "I got these for you, I hope they are alright." He passed her the pretty packages.

"Oh Jack," her eyes widened, "you shouldn't have, just having you here is present enough." She opened the first package, resolving to go up in size. This was the stockings which earned him a kiss, the second was the cami-knickers sets, which earned him a deeper kiss and the third was the brassiere and tap pants sets, at which point she scrambled onto his knee and opened his robe in order to press her naked body against his chest and kiss him most thoroughly.

"Alright?" he raised an eyebrow.

"More than alright, Jack," she giggled, "no man has ever had the nerve to buy me lingerie, these are lovely, you are clever and thoughtful and wonderful, and I'd better model them for you."

"One set per day, dear Phryne," he smiled, "may I choose?"

"You may, while I bathe," she slipped off his knee and headed to the bathroom.

"I'll dress, see to your father and order breakfast, then," he called through.

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She took her time in the bath smiling at the undercurrent of Jack's nervousness as she unwrapped each parcel. She had told the truth when she had said how lovely the lingerie was, he had obviously chosen carefully through his removing the lingerie she wore when they curled up in the blankets in the tent or in the bed at the hotel in Jodhpur. A very clever detective, indeed.

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The rest of the day passed quietly. They remained in the suite with Henry, though they persuaded him to take an afternoon nap in his own cabin and went for a stroll along the train. There was a salon where they could listen to a pianist and have a cocktail. They were limiting the wine available in the suite as Henry didn't seem to have forgotten how to drink. Jack wasn't bothered, all he missed was his nightly whisky and game of draughts. Though the games that had taken the place of the nightly battle were rather more fun, for both of them! That aside he had ordered champagne for that evening, after all it was Phryne's birthday and she should have champagne.

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With the champagne sitting in the ice bucket he undressed her down to the palest of blue cami-knickers he had chosen for her that morning. She turned round with her arms out and he decided he had made a good choice. Of course the woman wearing the garment did an awful lot for it. He reached for the drawstring ribbon at the waist and untied the bow. She glided over to him and pushed his jacket off his shoulders ...

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As she rocked above him he ran his hands up to cup her small breasts and thumb her pebble hard nipples. He pushed up into her, hard, making her gasp and rock faster. He held her as she arched her back and threw her head back shivering as the release washed over her and he felt her tighten round him. He delayed as long as he could but followed her with a final deep thrust that made her gasp again. She held him as long as she could then he slipped from her and she draped herself over him like a warm silk sheet, pink and glowing.

They roused themselves enough to take a glass of champagne, her leaning against him and not bothering to cover herself with the sheets. His hand was round her, resting low on her hip with his little finger straying into the top of her curls. She hummed her appreciation of the gentle touch and wriggled a little closer. He put his glass down and lifted hers out of her hand.

She extended her neck and hummed as he nibbled and nipped her neck and earlobe. As his lips travelled down her back his hands moved down her front, slipping between her legs and through the curls. He kissed and marked her bottom, then down the back of her legs as she rocked against his hand. He lifted her leg and crawled under it, then kissed between her thighs. She giggled as he made his way up her body, her breath hitched as he used his tongue to take her half way before she turned onto her back and allowed him to enter her and love her the way only he could. She called his name as she lost control and he bent over and captured her mouth and the scream.

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Jack awoke to the sound of knocking on the suite door. He slid out of Phryne's arms and grabbed the complimentary robe before answering it. It was their cabin steward.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but the passenger in the single cabin you booked is making rather a lot of noise. He's shouting that he has been kidnapped."

Jack ran his hands through his hair and sighed.

"I'll see to him, he's not quite well, in his head," he lifted the key to Henry's cabin and followed the steward out.

He unlocked the door to find Henry standing in his pyjamas holding a lamp above his head.

"Easy Lord Fisher," he put his hands up, "let's calm down, no one is here to harm you." He kept his voice low and measured, "remember, Phryne and I are taking you home, to London and your wife."

Henry slowly lowered the lamp and Jack took it gently from him. He guided him to sit on the bed and nodded to the steward that he could leave now.

"Now, it's a bit early to be getting up just yet, so why don't you get back into bed and read for a while," he reached over to the nightstand. "Here's the book Phryne found for you in the library, I'll come and help you to dress and shave before breakfast."

"London?"

"Yes, Lord Fisher, London, it's where you live."

"Oh, right, yes," he turned his attention to the book, "breakfast?"

"Later," Jack stood up, "too early just yet."

Henry was not listening, he had started to read the book, from the beginning. Jack wondered how far he got in the book each day, and did he start from the beginning each time?

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"Where did you go?" Phryne pouted as he let himself back into the suite.

"Your father, making too much noise, saying he was being kidnapped," he sat on the bed and took her in his arms. "Alright now, he's settled until breakfast, I hope."

"How are we going to get him home," she brushed her hair off her face, "if he starts doing things like that?"


	3. Chapter 3

Fortunately the crossing from Calais to Dover was smooth, unusual at that time of year, and Henry seemed quite happy to be sitting on deck watching the people pass by and the children play. The sea air seemed to calm him even though it was very cold. Jack had draped his coat over Phryne who only had the jacket she had started the journey with. They would be better below decks out of the wind, but Henry was happy where he was and Phryne didn't want a scene.

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The wind whipped across the docks , stinging their faces, freezing them to the bone. Henry didn't seem to notice it, Phryne gritted her teeth against the cold and pulled Jack's coat around her. She had, at first, refused the offer but he had insisted.

"I've got a full suit on, Phryne, and the long sleeved undershirt I was wearing when I joined you in India," he assured her. "Perhaps we'll get an hour to go and buy you a warm coat."

"We have to get the Pullman," she checked the tickets, "in half an hour."

"Hope the heating's working then," he gave her a quick squeeze.

"It's only a short journey," she smiled, "under two hours, then a taxi to mother's."

"Where is your father staying, do you know?"

"Oh, according to the telegram he has a little flat in the house, with a valet to look after him," she showed him the paper. She had sent a telegram to her mother's last known residence, with friends, and the response had given her the address of the new house. "It's a nice area, and she has some friends nearby."

"That sounds good," he reached for Henry who was about to go wandering, "this way Lord Fisher," he pulled his arm. "On the train to London."

"Train, again?"

"Yes father, train again, and you can sit with us in the carriage."

"Right," he had been wondering if this pretty lady would lock him in again and let the stern man she was with push him around.

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"I really am going to have to do some serious shopping tomorrow," Phryne whispered as her father dozed opposite them, "I have nothing suitable to wear for dinner, and I need something warmer for the daytime. You do too."

"I can see to my own wardrobe, but I'm happy to come with you ... carry your bags, ma'am?" he teased.

She gently slapped his chest, "at least we won't be looking over our shoulders to see where father is."

"True," he nodded, "but we can't just leave your mother to it, can we?"

"No, we'll wait to see the doctor," she looked into his eyes, "if mother phones tonight perhaps he could come early morning. We can give him our observations before we go shopping."

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The station was very busy. Phryne linked arms with her father and Jack as the porter wheeled their luggage to the taxi rank. The light was going and it had started to rain; cold, horizontal rain that stung their faces.

"Urgh!" she grumbled, "London in winter, oh for Melbourne and the sun."

Jack tipped the porter and they loaded the luggage into the taxi. Henry was pushed inside and told to sit quietly, the journey was nearly over.

"Soon be home, father," Phryne smiled, a smile that didn't reach her eyes, "then you will be comfortable and mother will look after you." None of which she was certain about but it was better than telling him his wife had secured a formal separation from him and he would be living separately from her. She wasn't sure he'd understand, anyway.

He just nodded and smiled. If he asked a question she would be cross, he was sure of that. She was too pretty to be cross so often, and why did she keep calling him 'father'? Still it sounded like the man with her, he couldn't remember his name, wouldn't be locking him in his room or cabin anymore. He didn't like that. He wished he could remember what was going on, but his mind seemed foggy. All he could remember is that he liked wine and food and that they had dragged him away from a party of some sort though he couldn't remember how long ago or where the party was.

Phryne and Jack watched him try to process what she had told him, but could see it was all a mystery to him. If he hadn't been with Clarence and taken so much wine and hashish he would still be the irritating jovial man she knew, now he was a sad shell of his former self. When she had embarked on this journey she had mentally prepared for breaking up a fearful row between her parents now she was trying to work out what to tell her mother, still. Her thoughts ranged from telling her the whole truth to just the bits she needed to know, namely that he had gone wandering and had too much liquor and intoxicants.

Jack wondered if he should be the one to tell the story, leaving out the bits about the young girls. He would be able to be dispassionate, logical while Phryne would show her anger and probably keep apologising for not keeping her father safer. He had once told her that her being remorseful confused him but it didn't now. Beneath that cavalier exterior, the jokes and wisecracks the devil may care attitude there was a vulnerable young lady, and just like all daughters, she was crying out for her parents' approval.

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The taxi pulled up outside a terraced mansion. There were lights on in the downstairs room that gave it a welcoming aura. There was a Christmas tree in one of the windows and as she looked towards the front door, Phryne noticed the rain had turned to snow.

"Are we home?" Henry broke through the quiet.

"Yes, father, we are home," she sighed and straightened her back. "Let's go in, shall we?" but the question was directed at Jack.

He got out and offered her his hand. She held it tight and turned to pull Henry out while the driver unloaded their luggage.

Jack paid the driver and he and Phryne carried the luggage up the steps with Henry following obediently behind them.

"Nice house," Henry noted.

Phryne just turned and glared at him.

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Margaret, Baroness Fisher, had been looking out of the window, strangely excited to be welcoming her daughter and her policeman friend. Prudence had written that the Inspector was an upright and honest man, but not really the right social class for Phryne. Margaret didn't really care, after all she could have married better, like Prudence, or gone for a more reliable man, so if Phryne was involved with a policeman at least he wouldn't drink and commit fraud. She had no belief that her remaining daughter would marry, not now, but as long as Phryne was happy she would be.

She stood back from the door and nodded to Colman, the butler, to open it and allow their visitors to enter.

Phryne looked tired, in spite of a brave attempt to appear as if it was quite normal for her to turn up with a Detective Inspector in tow and her father trailing behind them. She was wearing what appeared to be a man's coat, probably the Inspector's, he wasn't wearing one; so he was gallant as well as rather handsome.

"Hello mother," Phryne stepped over the threshold and Margaret opened her arms for her.

"Oh Phryne, " she kissed her cheek, "I'm so glad you made it."

Phryne stood for a moment letting the warmth of her mother's greeting wash over her then stepped back and pulled Jack forward.

"This is Inspector Jack Robinson, mother, I expect Aunt P has told you about him."

"Baroness," Jack took her hand and kissed the back of it, "a pleasure."

"The pleasure is all mine, Inspector, it's so nice to meet you at last," she smiled then turned her attentions to her husband, standing looking around the hall. "Henry," she looked him up and down, "I hope you're grateful to Phryne."

"Mother," Phryne looked down, "he ... er ... he's not well."

"In what way," she kept one eye on the vacant figure standing there.

"Perhaps we should sit down," Jack touched Phryne's elbow, "it's a long story."

"It always is where my husband in concerned," Margaret mused, "but perhaps you're right. Tea, Colman, in the drawing room, and have my daughter's suitcase taken to her room, the Inspector is next door so you can take his up too."

"Madam," the butler hummed and bowed his head respectfully, though how he was supposed to work out whose case was whose he had no idea.

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Jack took the coat from Phryne and she flopped onto a comfortable couch. He steered Henry to a chair, watched by Margaret, then went to sit next to Phryne. He laced his fingers with hers hopefully giving her the support she needed. He would let her tell the tale and only add anything if she faltered or asked him to.

"You must be tired, both of you," Margaret observed, "perhaps a bath to wash away the journey, then we can talk."

"We'll tell you the basic story first, mother," Phryne sighed, "then I am going to lie in the bath until the water goes cold."

Tea was brought in and the door closed. They waited until the drink was poured and their plates were filled with small scones and sandwiches.

Margaret noticed that Phryne set Henry's plate and cup on a small table next to him and told him to eat up. He had a vacant expression on his face and she wondered what on earth had happened to him. She had expected him to turn up all apologies and blustering about flying in a tiny aeroplane and Phryne's recklessness, instead he sat there - mute.

"Phryne?"

"I'm not sure where to start ..."

"The beginning usually works, I find," Margaret hummed, not unkindly, this was obviously difficult for her daughter.

"Well ..." she told as much as she thought her mother should know, about the missing week with Clarence Jeffries ...

"Jeffries!" the Baroness squeaked, "that weasel, what is he doing in India?"

"Hiding is my guess," Jack suggested, "from whoever, disappointed wives, murderous husbands ..."

"... anyway," Phryne continued but left out the part about the young girls, though she had a feeling her mother guessed he had been with others, just not how young these girls were. "... so, we believe that the amount of hashish and wine has addled his brain, and, well ... I'm sorry," Phryne sniffed, "I tried, mother, I really tried, but you know father ..."

"... his own worst enemy." Margaret shrugged, "come here, Phryne, it really isn't your fault, it's his, it always was."

"It was like losing Janey all over again," Phryne knelt in front of her mother, "that was my fault ..."

"Phryne," Jack interrupted, "it was not your fault, it was Foyle's, I've told you, nobody else would have bothered with a little girl like Janey, kidnapping would not give them much, Foyle was after a specific person, you know that."

"From what you said in your letters, he wanted someone born on the twenty-first of December, but because your father was drunk when he registered both your births he thought it was Janey and not you." Margaret leant forward and put her arms round Phryne, "don't ever blame yourself for something you could do nothing about."

"Sorry," Phryne sniffed.

"Stop apologising," Jack and Margaret chorused, "it only confuses me," Jack finished off.

"So, what do we do about your father?" Margaret kept her hand soothingly on Phryne's back.

"We thought you could ring the doctor and get him to call in the morning," Jack placed his cup on the tray, "Phryne needs some clothes, and so do I and, mindful of the fact it is Christmas Eve tomorrow, we need to, in her words, go shopping."

"What help does he need, for tonight?"

Jack told her what he had been doing for Henry and that they thought he should have a valet with a strong arm and a lot of patience.

"I have engaged a valet for Henry," she rang the bell, "perhaps you could explain to him what needs to be done for tonight and I shall call the doctor."

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Jack and Phryne were introduced to Davies, Henry's new valet. He was perhaps in his late twenties, broad of shoulder and quick witted. Phryne liked him immediately and felt he would be able to handle her father. Jack took him through Henry's habits and the routine they had followed on their travels and finally he was introduced to Henry.

"A pleasure to meet you, Baron," he bowed, "I look forward to working for you. Perhaps I should show you to your flat and help you to unpack?"

Henry looked at Phryne and Jack, the only familiar faces, bemused.

"This is Davies, father," Phryne smile softly, trying not to get too irritated, "he is going to be looking after you. Jack has told him all about you and what you like to do, but Jack is a police officer and will have to go back to his usual position."

Jack, that was the name of the stern man who locked him in his room. Phryne noticed the flicker of recognition across his face, and then it was gone. She sighed.

"Right," she straightened her back, "I am going to have that bath now, a long, luxurious soak, don't disturb me until half an hour before dinner."

"Off you go, and you Inspector," Margaret smiled, "take your time, you've earned it."

Jack just bowed and followed Phryne up the stairs. At her room door he whispered in her ear and she smiled, "a back massage, that sounds delicious."

"I'll have a quick bath and return, forthwith, dear lady detective," he kissed her cheek. He wondered if the Baroness had worked out that two rooms were not really necessary.

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Margaret made good use of the peace and phoned the doctor. She explained what had transpired and he was willing to attend the following morning, around nine-thirty. She went to sit in her room and think about would happen from now on, how would she go forward? She supposed that as long as she had Davies and he proved to be able to take care of Henry she could just say he was unwell and unable to attend functions with her. While he had been away she had toyed with the idea of taking a lover, she had had no shortage of offers. Margaret was the complete opposite of her sister, slim, elegant, a little taller than Prudence, and still quite beautiful. Jack had thought that if girls grow up to look like their mothers then Phryne would always be the most beautiful woman he had met.

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They had a lovely meal, quieter than Margaret had originally thought it would be before she knew what had befallen her husband.

Colman served unobtrusively; a starter of homemade tomato soup was followed by a hearty and warming beef casserole with creamed potatoes and greens. The dessert of apple pie and custard was just the right sort of thing to finish the meal. Henry cleaned his plate and drank the glass of Bordeaux wine he was given. Margaret noticed that drinking was one thing he hadn't forgotten, sadly. He tried to join in the conversation but couldn't follow it, he couldn't remember who these people were, but the older woman seemed kind.

Davies had taken what Jack had told him and decided that the Baron had had enough of the company. He looked lost and alone, perhaps now would be a good time to escort him to his room and settle him down for the night. He had a room on the floor nearby so he would be able to hear Henry should he decided to go for a midnight stroll. This floor had been turned into a self contained flat should Henry decide he wanted to dine alone, but this had been done before Margaret had seen how little of the husband she knew had returned.

"Goodnight, Henry" Margaret nodded.

"Er, yes, right," he mumbled, "lovely to meet you."

Margaret bit her lip and swallowed. Jack and Phryne both saw the hurt on her face and went to stand by her.

"This way, sir," Davis touched his elbow.

They watched them head up the stairs then went into the drawing room for coffee and brandy.

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Phryne gave her mother time to compose herself before broaching the subject of the doctor.

"He's coming around nine-thirty tomorrow morning," Margaret gathered her thoughts, "he would like to talk to both of you, but feels the same way you do, that it was the concentrated alcohol and drugs that have done this to him. His father went the same, you never knew him, Phryne, he drank a lot, went gaga, infantile behaviour before he died. I hope Henry doesn't get that bad."

"So, all those fine men died in defence of their country only to have the Fisher line die out with a drunk," Phryne grumbled, "shoot me if I go that way, Jack," she reached over for his hand.

"I'll shoot both of us," he squeezed the hand, "no point in going on without you."

Phryne was surprised her would declare his love in front of her mother, but rather touched at the same time.

"Well, you two," Margaret smiled, she liked Jack, he was easy to like and respect, and he suited Phryne, "you must both be exhausted from your travels ..."

"Quite," Jack stood up and offered his hand to Phryne, "we shall bid you goodnight, Lady Fisher ..."

"Margaret, please,"

"... Margaret, and see you in the morning."

Phryne bent and kissed her mother's cheek and went with Jack out of the room, "sleep well, mother."

"I shall, dear, don't you worry."

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Margaret slept remarkably well, considering. She supposed it was because Henry was home, no matter what state he was in. At least she felt he was safe from making rash decisions, attending dubious card games, and selling his soul to whatever devil came his way.

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Phryne was asleep almost the moment her head hit the pillow, no more than Jack expected. He wrapped his arms round her and neither woke until the maid knocked on the door with a tray of morning tea. The girl showed no surprise that Miss Phryne was in bed with a man who was not her husband, for which Jack was grateful, and left the tray on a small table near the fireplace. In lieu of a nightdress, Phryne had pinched one of Jack's shirts, one that was past its best, but clean, so when she sat up and brushed her hair out of her eyes the maid was not subject to a sight that Dot was more used to. Jack did not mind in the slightest, his shirt looked a heck of a lot better on her than it did on him and caused stirrings that would best be dealt with by a visit to the bathroom and a quick splash of cold water. They had things to do, and delays would not suit either of them, no matter how pleasant.

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Margaret was in the breakfast room when they got downstairs. She was drinking tea and reading the paper, her breakfast finished.

"Good morning," she smiled, "sleep well?"

"Like a log," Phryne kissed her cheek.

"Jack?" Margaret raised an eyebrow.

"We both did, Margaret," he lifted her hand and kissed it, "didn't stir until the maid brought tea in."

"I'm so glad, you deserve the rest."

Phryne asked Colman if he could find her some good strong coffee to go with her toast.

"Miss," he bowed politely, "sir?" he looked at Jack.

"Tea, thank you," Jack reached for the pot.

"Freshen that up, please, Colman," Margaret stopped him, "it'll be quite stewed by now."

Jack thought of all the times the station tea had been stewed until it resembled paint stripper, and was about to tell her it was fine, when he looked at Phryne. Her expression told him to accept the fresher brew.

"Thank you," he continued helping himself to bacon and eggs.

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Dr Binns arrived at nine thirty on the dot. He was a small, balding man, dapper in a pale grey morning suit and wing-collared shirt. He was greeted cheerfully by Margaret who introduced her daughter and the Inspector, her travelling companion.

Dr Binns shook both their hands and they went to talk in the morning room. He listened as Jack told how he had noticed Henry's rapid decline into senility.

"And how did you find him, before, when he was in Melbourne?" Dr Binns asked, noting down all he had said.

"Difficult to say," Jack hummed, "he was always there ..."

".. in the way," Phryne interrupted, "I mean, if I arranged a dinner with Jack he would be there, so I cancelled, or gave an excuse for Jack not to come around. It was ..."

"...frustrating," Jack continued, "I didn't know, at first, that her father was my competition, as it were, so I ... er ..."

"... told me he didn't want to be like other men I had been seen with, or men who wore, 'damned cravates'," Phryne smothered a laugh at the memory, "poor Jack, there never seemed to be the right time to tell him my father was the man who caused me to change our arrangements."

"Anyway," Jack took the conversation back to the original stream, "he was oblivious to Phryne's rather obvious suggestions he was not invited, unaware of all the hurt he was piling on her. If he'd been a woman you would have described him as 'scatty'."

"Father didn't seem to realise that he couldn't keep spending the way he was, that money was running out, even though he had sold the Somerset estate to pay some debts."

"He ran off to Melbourne to invest in a theatrical show, a variety event that we had taken Phryne to as a child." Margaret sighed, "it was a gamble, Henry always gambled money away, taken in, in this case, by the bright lights and the bringing back of the mermaid attraction."

"But it got worse?"

"I lost him in Jodhpur," Phryne leant against Jack, "he wandered off and was found by an old acquaintance, someone he had done a few deals with in the past, not good ones, and they went off to drink and smoke hashish - for nearly a week. Since then he had been vague, vacant. His memory is badly affected. He doesn't recognise me as his daughter, has no recollection of mother and doesn't like Jack because he would lock him in his room at night and chivvy him along in the mornings to wash, shave and dress."

"Right, well, I'd better see him, now," Dr Binns put away his notebook and looked at Margaret.

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Dr Binns did the usual health checks on Henry before talking to him, asking him banal questions, such as who was Phryne, or what was the name of his wife? Did he know what day it was, could he recite the months of the year? He showed him some picture cards in succession then hid them and asked him to say what they were. He remembered the odd picture, got June and July mixed up and forgot September altogether. Henry couldn't say for certain who Phryne was, just a pretty lady who had been near him for a while, and no, he didn't know the name of his wife, was he married?

"Who is Davies?" Dr Binns asked.

"Oh, him, pleasant chap," Henry smiled, "doesn't lock doors," he added with a grimace, "he makes a good cuppa."

Margaret wondered if Davies had locked the main door to the flat, and if so had Henry noticed? She would check.

Henry was escorted to the back parlour where the walls were lined with books and paintings, one of Phryne that Sarcelle had done in Paris. He was told he could read any of the books there, ring for tea or coffee at any time, write letters at the desk or he could have the paper.

He chose to read the paper and asked for tea. There was a fire in the grate where he sat warming his feet, it was all rather comfortable, he could be happy there, he thought.

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"His physical health is quite good," Dr Binns sat with Margaret, Jack and Phryne in the parlour. "His lungs and heart sound strong so ordinarily I would say he will live a good long life, that said ..." he looked at each in turn, "he is, what we would term, senile, I'm afraid. We could hope that his mental state will level out, perhaps stay as it is, and he may come to recognise you, Baroness, and Davies, perhaps other members of the household, but not visitors. Routine is what he needs, everything done at the same time, everyday, which could be very boring for you, Baroness, and you too, Miss Fisher ..."

"Phryne will be returning to Melbourne," Margaret interrupted him, "that's where her life is and I don't expect her to put it on hold for one foolish old man who couldn't pass up temptation."

"Mother ..."

"No, dear, you have your business there, and Jack will have to get back to keeping the streets safe," Margaret touched her arm and smiled, "you do not need to stay, Phryne. Anyway," she laughed, "what would Aunt Prudence have to write to me about if you don't go around chasing the lowlifes in Melbourne, eh?"

Phryne smiled slightly, they would continue the conversation later - though she didn't want to stay in London, really.

Dr Binns left, there was little else he could do, but he would call regularly, perhaps once a month?

Baroness Fisher agreed to this, and to the idea that, if he got worse, a nurse would be appointed to look after him, alongside Davies.

"Of course there are places ..." Dr Binns murmured.

"No, not that, he is my husband, for better or worse," Margaret sighed, "I wouldn't want that for anyone. He shall stay here, as arranged." Though she didn't say she had a formal separation from her husband and that arrangement was that he would reside in the flat and be attended to by his valet.

Jack admired her for that, so many other women would have happily consigned him to an asylum and forgotten about him until the call came to lay him to rest.

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With Dr Binns recommendations for Henry's ongoing care settled, Davies updated on what care he was expected to provide for the Baron Christmas came and went in a bit of a blur. Phryne and Jack managed to get enough clothes to see them through the festive season and in spite of Henry's inability to follow a conversation or join in, it was a reasonably jolly time.

Margaret had already arranged a dinner party, inviting some of her friends, and she couldn't very well cancel, Phryne wouldn't let her, anyway.

"Father doesn't have to appear," she told her, "he isn't well enough, that's all you have to say. Those that know him will probably think he has been drinking, those that don't will accept your explanation that he has not quite recovered from his travels."

"But what about New Year?" her mother sighed, "it was supposed to be a chance to start again."

"If you have already sent out invitations, then we shall carry on," Phryne smiled, "it would be lovely to go back to Melbourne with those kind of memories."

"Do you think so?" she tipped her head, "it would be nice to remember you, and Jack, enjoying yourselves, and seeing in the New Year with me."

"We'd love it," Phryne assured her, knowing that in the early days of the year she and Jack would be heading off on board an ocean liner. It was the least complicated way of getting back to Australia, other routes and modes of transport proved to be far too intricate. All they wanted to do was to get back to Melbourne before Jack lost his job. He had contacted the commissioner and updated him on the situation, reminding him he had not taken leave for some years and it had stacked up. Regardless of Miss Fisher's arrangements, it would be over a month before he returned.

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Henry was dressed in a dinner suit and brought down to attend the New Year's Eve celebrations as far as he could. The guests were all close friends of Margaret whom she felt she could confide in, about Henry's health. She did put it down to age rather than the indulgence in Jodhpur. Davies saw to his requirements for food and drink, ensuring he did not feel hard done by, using a smaller glass for his wine and staying close enough to help him out of some social predicament he found himself in. Phryne and Jack both saw how attentive he was, without being too obvious and decided that the Baroness had indeed found a treasure in him.

A little before midnight, Henry began to flag so Davies suggested he might like to retire.

"Hm? Yes, yes," he mumbled, "good idea, tired."

As he passed Phryne at the door he looked into her eyes, almost recognising her. She kissed his cheek, "Happy New Year, father," she whispered.

"Yes, quite," he chuckled at the kiss before drawing his brows together. "Phryne!" he shouted, "yes, Phryne," he seemed pleased he'd finally remembered her name and went out muttering it.

Phryne bit her lip as she watched him go.

"Darling?" Margaret and Jack appeared at her side.

"I'm alright," she blinked away a tear, "really."

Jack put his hand in the small of her back, "come on, nearly time to welcome the new year," he passed her a glass of champagne.

"Wonder what it holds," she sipped the drink.

"All sorts of wonderful things," he smiled, "I hope."

"Me too."

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"Go," Margaret urged at the bottom of the gangplank, "Phryne, I will be fine. Davies has your father sorted, you've seen that, I have my friends ... he won't go roaming again and while we won't have the marriage we should have, at least I know where he is."

"Promise me you will telegram if you need anything, anything at all," Phryne insisted, "I know it will take a while for me to get here, but I will be with you as fast as possible if you need me."

With a final hug they parted. Jack took Margaret's hand and kissed it, then leaned in to whisper, "if you don't want to worry her, telegram me at City South."

She nodded and smiled, "thank you, Jack. Just look after her for me, will you?"

"Of course, though we'll keep that to ourselves, eh?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Epilogue:**

**Seven years later**.

Margaret watched them descend the steps from the aircraft. Young John Henry Fisher-Robinson holding his mother's hand, tight. Little Susannah-Jane in her father's arms, nestled against his neck. She sighed, what a reason to meet your grandchildren - their grandfather's funeral.

Henry had passed away peacefully one night. A bout of bronchitis had left him weak and struggling to breathe. She and Davies had sat by his side until the end, at the very last he had breathed her name - for the first and last time in seven years. He had never spoken his daughter's name since that New Year's Eve but lived in his own little world, quite happily ready in the back parlour and walking in the park, with Davies, on sunny days.

Margaret had filled her days with lunches with her friends, trips to the theatre and sitting on various hospital and school boards, though not as many as Prudence.

"Darling," she hugged her daughter and son-in-law, "thank you for coming."

"We couldn't not come, mother," Phryne smiled sadly, "this time of all times. How are you?"

"Quite well, all things considered, dear," Margaret nodded, "he's at peace now."

"Mummy?" John pulled at his mother's hand.

"This is your grandmother, John," Phryne looked down at him, the image of his father, "say hello."

"Hello, grandmother," he held out his small hand, "nice to meet you."

"It's so lovely to meet you at last, John," she took his hand and bent down to him, "I have your picture, and that of your sister, on my bedside table, I see you every morning."

"Oh."

Susannah stirred in her father's arms, she hadn't much enjoyed the flight and when she was unhappy only Jack could do anything with her. He said she was far too much like her mother, and certainly in looks she was a little Phryne.

"Waking up now, Susie," he kissed her dark curls, "are you going to say hello to grandmother?"

She rubbed her eyes and yawned. She looked at Margaret and gave a little smile but said nothing.

"She takes some time to wake up," Jack apologised, "rather like Phryne."

Phryne pouted then laughed.

"Well, let's get to the house and we can all have some tea, perhaps the children would like some hot chocolate?"

"That would be lovely, mother," Phryne smiled, "they love hot chocolate."

"I remember two other little girls who were rather fond of it, too." Margaret thought of Phryne and Janey, sipping the treat whenever she could find the spare money to buy the cocoa powder.

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The children didn't attend the funeral, it wasn't a place for two such young people. One of the maids offered t take them for a walk into the park, perhaps feed the ducks and swans. There was a little cafe where they could have a light lunch until it was time to return to the house. They had a lovely time, she was able to field questions about funerals from John without frightening them and let them run off some steam as they would have to be quiet and respectful in the house.

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The funeral was well attended by close friends of the family. Henry was laid to rest in the local church instead of the family plot on the estate that he had sold. The current owners had offered when they sent their condolences but it was a little far to travel and the estate was no longer in the Fisher family.

The family solicitor attended the wake and asked if he could speak to Mr and Mrs Fisher Robinson in private.

"Perhaps the study?" he raised his eyebrows.

"Yes, of course, if it's urgent." Phryne put down her glass.

"It isn't urgent, as such, but it is necessary I speak to you, your mother knows."

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They sat at the desk and waited for the man to tell them the terms of Henry's will, or so they thought.

"Well," he steepled his fingers, "I shan't beat around the bush, you are now the new Baron and Baroness Fisher of Richmond on Thames, or should I say, Fisher-Robinson of Richmond on Thames."

"How?" Phryne leant forward, "I thought only males could inherit."

"Usually, yes, but the baronetcy was given by writ, and as such can be inherited by daughters if there are no sons. Given that you married, your husband takes the title of Baron and your son will be the next Baron." He sat back and watched the news sink in, "none of the men who were killed in the war had any issue which is why the title passed to your father in the first place."

"Does that mean we have to move to England?" Jack asked, wondering if he wanted to, and if he wanted to give up being a member of the Victorian police force. With the world in the financial state it was giving up a job didn't seem like a prudent act.

"No, not at all," the solicitor smiled, "there is no estate, and if there was it could be left in the hands of a manager, anyway. You will have to make provision for your mother, I'm afraid your father didn't leave much."

"No surprises there," Phryne hummed.

"Quite."

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Jack slipped into bed where Phryne lay on her back, staring at the ceiling.

"Penny for them," he asked.

"What? Oh, just a lot to take in," she turned to face him.

"All I want to know," he smirked, "is, how do I make love to a Baroness?"

"The same way you make love to an Honourable," she giggled.

So he did.

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They spent a month in London, helping Margaret sort out Henry's things, seeing the solicitor about his will, which he was right to say didn't leave much and letting the children get to know their grandmother. She delighted in them, seeing large portions of her daughter in both of them, and the sensible parts of Jack in young John. Susannah became quite close to the Dowager Baroness in her quiet way. Margaret found she liked to be read to and took over the bedtime story for the duration of the visit.

It was decided that the house should be sold and Margaret look for something like a mews where she could entertain a few friends and keep a maid and butler/cook. Phryne wondered how Colman's cooking was as he knew her mother well and he could perhaps be her own Mr B. Davies was given a glowing reference and told he should find another position, but that he would not be thrown out on his ear until he did so. Fortunately one of Margaret's friends was looking for a butler and Davies was able to take on that role, after a short training session from Colman.

When they left, Margaret has all but finalised the purchase of a charming mews property and would be moving within the week, her staff were sorted and anything surplus to requirements was auctioned off. They all thought it was quite sad but many of the pieces of furniture were too large for the new house and the ornaments threatened to make it appear cluttered.

"Promise me, mother," Phryne looked straight at her just before they boarded the plane, "that if anything happens, that makes you feel unsafe you will ring me. You can always come and stay with us, for as long as you want. With the situation in Europe I worry about you."

"I will be fine, darling," Margaret kissed her cheek, "but, yes, if it gets to be a worry, I will come and stay. But you must remember, England is my home now, my friends are here. You and the family are wonderful, and it would be nice to see Prudence again but ..."

"We understand, Margaret," Jack interrupted, "but the invitation stands, and if I think it is becoming dangerous _I _will come and get you," he winked.

"If only I were thirty years younger," she teased.

"Baroness," he tutted in mock shock, "I'm a married man!"

"She's a lucky girl," she kissed his cheek, "now go, or they'll take off without you. You two," she directed her next remarks to the children, "be good for your parents, I love you very much, you are little treasures, perhaps we will meet again, soon."

Susannah reached over from her father's arms and hugged her, planting a sloppy kiss on her grandmother's cheek and John reached up for a hug, as well.

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Margaret heeded her daughter's advice as war approached and sold up in London, her staff found posts that would support England in the event of a full scale war. She took a series of flights and landed in Sydney, before taking a train to Melbourne and settling down with her family.

Jack was now Commander of Victoria Police and Phryne still ran her detective agency with Dot, neither would serve this time but they all took their part in supporting the war effort.

Prudence died before Margaret, seeing out the war, just, and was buried with her beloved Edward and Arthur.

Margaret live to a hundred, still spry and quick witted, surrounded by children, she kept telling Phryne she was too old to be detecting, grandchildren and great grandchildren. She was buried with Janey in a quiet and moving ceremony.

On that day, Phryne burned a letter her father had left her, telling her she had a half sister in Perth and that he bitterly regretted all the hurt he had put on his family. He hoped she could forgive a foolish old man. She had kept the letter as she tried to find Annabel but in the end, with the passing of her mother, that chapter was closed.

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The only thing I am apologising for is the inheritance rules. A daughter can inherit if the baronetcy is given by writ but I have no idea if that daughter's husband would become a baron.


End file.
